But Frank Reade, Jr., did not like the idea of being tossed about so violently.
“Open the air-chamber, Barney!” he cried. “We’ve had enough of this!”
“All roight, sor!” cried the Celt.
He proceeded to obey with alacrity.
The Explorer instantly sank.
The water was not more than fifty fathoms deep here, but as the submarine boat touched the bottom not a particle of the rude storm going on above could be felt.
The search-light was turned on, and a startling sight was revealed.
All about was smooth, white sand, and deeply buried in this, not one hundred feet distant, was the dismantled hull of a vessel.
“‘Clar to goodness!” cried Pomp. “Does yo’ see dat, Marse Frank?”
“Ah, there are many such monuments as that in these waters!” said Frank. “These are the fishing banks, and just such storms as the one going on above have sent many a craft to the bottom!”